Date Night
by mcnasty-filth
Summary: COMPLETE. Eames and Arthur continue and end their date despite getting busted a second time. Explicit slash/language. Reviews welcomed.
1. Wine & Dine

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception.

For Your Listening Pleasure:

9th Wonder ft. Erykah Badu & Rapsody: 20 Feet Tall

9th Wonder ft. Holly Weerd & Thee Tom Hardy: Your Smile (yes, there is a rapper named Tom Hardy!)

9th Wonder ft. Mac Miller & Heather Victoria: That's Love

Andy Allo ft. Blu: Dreamland

Slum Village: La La

Eames felt extremely pleased with himself – he was in a sleek, black Nissan Z with a tan leather interior (rented) wearing what he considered to be his best clothes (questionable), and he was going to get laid in the very near future (unquestionable). He was on his way to Arthur's apartment complex, driving 30 kilometers over the speed limit and really not caring if he got pulled over; after all, how many people could say that they had managed to coerce Arthur into going on a date? Eames wasn't aware of anyone else who'd managed such a feat. He whistled tunelessly as he made the final turn and pulled up in front of the building. Arthur's silhouette occupied the brightly lit lobby, sleek and unmoving until Eames lowered his window and blew a kiss at it.

Arthur emerged, dressed in one of his many black suits that made Eames' pulse race. He strode towards the car, looking around suspiciously before getting in. "You're early."

"Don't go and have a coronary, love. I'd hate to be the one who broke your heart."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Hardy-har-har."

"In all seriousness, though, you look fucking delicious." Eames gave his date a lecherous once-over, unconsciously running his tongue over his teeth. Arthur blushed.

"Seems you clean up well," he said, and Eames knew this was about as close to a sincere compliment as he was going to get.

"Aw, shucks!"

The car was now in gear and moving. Arthur had been anxious all day because of this date, unable to concentrate on his paperwork and looking at the clock every few minutes. He couldn't help but wonder why he'd agreed to it in the first place – even though he'd sell his soul just for the chance to see Eames naked, he wasn't sure if establishing a romantic relationship with a co-worker was wise. He fidgeted in his seat, picking an invisible piece of lint from his pants before straightening his collar and focusing on the darkening landscape of the city as it flew by.

"Where are you taking me?" Arthur asked as their surroundings grew increasingly unfamiliar.

"Somewhere posh, where the portions are miniscule and the tablecloths touch the floor," Eames replied.

Arthur's nervousness sharpened his tongue. "So, in other words, you'll stand out like a sore thumb."

The insult glanced off of Eames, who simply smiled deviously and wagged his finger. "Now, now, Arthur – that kind of talk is going to deprive you of dessert."

"Boo-fucking-hoo."

Eames' grin widened, much to Arthur's chagrin. "Why, what a nasty little mouth you've got! If I hadn't pinched myself earlier, I'd say I was dreaming." His voice turned sing-song. "Arthur's swearing! Arthur's swearing!"

"Oh, fuck off!" Arthur snapped, slouching into his seat and crossing his arms.

"Don't get your pants in a twist, love, I'm just pushing your buttons." Eames shifted his focus back to the road, a smile still playing on his lips. Arthur harrumphed. He hadn't known what to expect from this evening, and he was unsure as to what he hoped it would turn into. So far it seemed like another day on a job – his businesslike demeanor waging war against Eames' merciless pigtail-tugging.

Several kilometers passed in silence before Eames brought the Nissan to an abrupt halt. "Here we are," he said, exiting the car with a flourish. Arthur scarcely had his seatbelt off before his date had swung open the passenger door. Embarrassed, he stepped out onto the dimly-lit sidewalk and adjusted his suit before surveying his surroundings. It was too dark to discern the details of the street's architecture, but the building standing before him gave off a distinctly Mediterranean aura. Sure enough, the hand-carved wooden sign by the front doors read _Yiamas Greek Cuisine_.

"Time's a-wasting, Arthur," Eames said, giving the other man's backside a squeeze as he brushed past him. For what seemed like the millionth time, Arthur found himself asking himself what on earth he'd gotten himself into.

The restaurant's interior was lit primarily by candles and wall sconces, which cast an inviting orange glow over the black and white tables. Patches of artistically aged bare brick emerged from the stucco walls, and the flagstone-covered floor reinforced the building's Mediterranean feel. The cozy waiting area expanded into the modest dining room, which was filled with sharply dressed couples and wait staff whose attire matched the tables. The air was nothing but an amalgamation of tantalizing aromas.

Arthur smiled in spite of himself. "Good choice. I like it." Eames, looking satisfied, gave his name to the maître-d' and followed her stout form into the dining room. Arthur trailed behind them, eyes wandering over the tasteful wall hangings. He was not surprised to see that they had been led to a table in the back corner of the room – this was Eames' doing. _I can only imagine how he'll use this to his advantage_, Arthur thought, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation coursing through his veins.

The maître-d' handed them a pair of leather-bound menus and a wine list as they settled into their seats. Eames perused the appetizers with one eye on Arthur, who was studying the wine list as though he'd be tested on it later.

"Get whatever you like, love," Eames said. "You're as nervous as a cat." Arthur couldn't deny it, and Eames' lecherous staring wasn't helping. He was relieved when their server, a plain girl who couldn't have been much more than twenty, came by to take their drink order.

"I'll have a glass of house wine," Arthur said, hoping one glass would be enough to calm him down.

Eames continued to analyze the menu. "Just water for me, thank you." Arthur gave him a quizzical look. Without looking up, Eames replied, "I'm driving, remember?"

This struck Arthur as unusual. "Well, yeah, but-"

"I _am_ occasionally capable of acting responsibly, you know." Eames' tone was bordering on offended. Arthur dropped his gaze to his menu, the words swimming before him as a flush crept up his neck.

"Will wonders ever cease," he mumbled, unwilling to apologize.

"Oh, Arthur, you're such a prat!" Eames laughed. "You wouldn't recognize a joke if you tripped over it."

Arthur's ears burned. "I recognize the one sitting across from me." Eames' eyes lit up with delight – the jabs didn't even scratch the surface of his bottomless self-confidence, which served to further agitate Arthur. Their banter was briefly interrupted by the arrival of their drinks; Arthur drained half his wine in one go. The waitress seemed slightly alarmed by this, looking to Eames as if expecting an explanation.

"We'll need a few more minutes," Eames said, and the girl scurried away gratefully. He fixed his gaze on Arthur, who was now pretending to peruse the entrees. "You might want some food to go with that wine." Without looking up, his date picked up his glass and knocked back the rest of its contents.

"Why? Are you afraid that I might embarrass you?"

"Not really – but you'll need the energy for later on."

Arthur slammed his menu shut and met Eames' gaze. "Is that so?" The wine had colored his cheeks, making him appear vaguely cherubic.

"This, as you might've guessed, is the wine and dine, precursors to the recline."

No sooner had the words left Eames' mouth before every hair on Arthur's body was standing on end. He realized that it had been obvious from the beginning that this was the way the evening was to unfold – not that he minded, of course; he was more than willing to lead Eames on a merry chase.

The waitress returned at that very moment, glancing nervously from Eames to Arthur as she waited to take their orders. Eames decided on something with lamb in it – Arthur had been too focused on watching his lips move to hear the words they were forming. When he realized that it was his turn, he tossed the menu to the waitress and nodded at his empty glass.

"More wine to start, and salad to finish." The waitress and Eames raised an eyebrow in unison. "I'm getting fucked tonight," Arthur stated, the wine washing away his inhibition. "Wouldn't want to get cramps." The waitress' eyes whitened before she turned on her heel and vanished.

Eames laughed and presented his best Austin Powers impression. "Oh, _behave!_" Arthur couldn't help but grin. He kicked off a shoe and felt around for one of Eames' feet, running his foot up the leg it was attached to. "Clearly I need to get you drunk more often," Eames said, shifting in his seat to accommodate the increasing snugness of his pants. This uncharacteristically brash Arthur was very arousing indeed.

"I'm not drunk," Arthur said indignantly.

"Right, and I'm not turned on by it."

Arthur's foot paused momentarily at Eames' knee before seeking proof of this statement. It was not difficult to find. Eames glanced about the restaurant before carefully sliding down in his chair and thrusting his crotch against the foot. Arthur, emboldened by the wine, pressed himself along the thickening length of trousered cock, the silly smile on his face revealing his enjoyment. Their waitress suddenly reappeared bearing water and wine, and both men halted their game of footsies as she set Eames' water down and refilled Arthur's glass. Her discomfort was palpable, and Arthur decided to tighten his grip on it. He used his toes to give Eames a surprisingly strong squeeze, resulting in a stifled moan.

"S-shouldn't be much l-longer," the girl stammered, white-faced, as she backed away from the table.

"For him or the food?" Arthur asked, his smirk widening. The waitress turned tail and practically ran to the kitchen. He turned back to Eames, who had been biting his lip to suppress an outburst of either pleasure or laughter.

"She'll spit in our food!" Eames exhaled.

"Then she'll get no tip," Arthur responded. "But the real question is whether or not I'll spit." He gave Eames another squeeze as he gulped his wine.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"No, and it'll do much worse things to you in good time."

Eames could only imagine what Arthur meant by that. A tremendous heat was radiating from his crotch and spreading throughout his body, leaving him feeling pleasantly lightheaded. He was suddenly aware of the other diners, glancing back at them now and then, and the notion of being found out secretly thrilled him. His bliss was interrupted once more by the waitress, this time bearing plates of food. Arthur's foot disappeared from his lap as its owner sat up properly in his chair and dug into his salad. The disappointment Eames was feeling vanished as the smell of baked lamb hit his nostrils, voracity taking its place.

The two ate in silence for a few minutes, returning to anonymity amidst the chatter and clinking of cutlery on ceramic throughout the room. Eames was thoroughly impressed by the quality of the food, but his thoughts and eyes kept wandering back to Arthur - despite being slightly tipsy, he was inhaling horiatiki with impeccable grace. This made Eames want to fuck him even more. Perhaps he'd have to escape to the men's room, drop trou and give himself a few good jerks before Arthur followed suit. He'd be on his knees in a jiff, taking every last inch down his throat before Eames had him pressed up against the wall, moaning into the tile as he got his perfect ass fucked into oblivion.

"Eames?"

This time it was Arthur who was disrupting his reverie, and Eames realized that he'd forgotten to swallow the mouthful of food he'd been chewing. He did so before responding. "Yeah?"

"Everything okay?"

Eames nodded, noting that Arthur had already polished off his salad. "Looks like someone wants dessert," he said, a frisky edge to his words. "I don't know if I should let you have any after all that filthy talk in the car."

"You don't have a choice," Arthur said, slowly looking over both shoulders to determine that their waitress was nowhere in sight before accidentally-on-purpose knocking his fork to the floor. "Goodness gracious! What a butterfingers I am." Eames was certain of what was coming and his cock hardened in anticipation. Arthur knelt down as if to retrieve the fork but instead disappeared under the tablecloth, shoving his date's knees apart with considerable force.

"Unh!" Eames grunted, automatically canting his pelvis closer to Arthur. He'd slid down further into his chair and hoped nobody would notice. Arthur spread Eames' knees wider as he moved in, his breath unbearably hot and teasing over his restrained erection. Eames was itching to tear open his fly and free himself, but he didn't dare attempt it. Sweat moistened his temples as he felt Arthur's hands ghosting over his crotch, carefully undoing and unzipping and maneuvering until he had his fingers wrapped around cock. Arthur's breath was audibly ragged, and Eames held his in the hopes that they would not be discovered prematurely and thrown out.

Arthur was mumbling about something, his lips brushing along the length of Eames' cock as his hands gripped his thighs, halting the fine tremor that had started moments ago. Eames could feel precum leaking from his impatient dick, and he wished that Arthur would get to the point so that he could blow his load and get the fuck out of here. He was going to pay for this little stunt once they got to the car, which was looking as though it would be christened earlier than Eames had originally planned.

As if he were telepathic, Arthur latched onto the head of Eames' cock and tongued its slit as he moved his hand along the shaft. Eames let out a loud sigh and was sure that he felt Arthur smiling with his mouth full. Several pairs of eyes were now on him (or was it them?); he took a sip of water to appear nonchalant. At that very moment Arthur decided to test his gag reflex, and was promptly rewarded by the sound of water being spat all over the table. This was followed by Eames reaching a hand under the tablecloth and grasping Arthur's hair none-too-gently, pushing his mouth further and further down his cock until it hit fabric. The thrill of deep throating Eames – in public, no less – bolstered Arthur's technique and speed. He used his free hand to attend to his own cock, which had already dampened a spot on his suit pants and was begging to be freed.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused both men to freeze.

"Is everything s-satisfactory?"

_Fuck,_ thought Arthur, unable to control the saliva that was running from his mouth and soaking the front of Eames' pants. He heard the other man trying his best to regain his composure.

"Fantastic, love, but would you mind bringing the bill? We'll need to get off – I mean, take off shortly."

Arthur tried not to giggle at the Freudian slip. As the waitress retreated, Eames shoved his head down onto his cock with renewed vigor. He sprang back into action, ignoring his aching knees and jaw. Eames, meanwhile, was attracting an audience with his labored breathing. He knew he was on the verge of a toe-curling orgasm and was hoping that the waitress would take her time getting the bill. He twined his fingers through Arthur's hair, knowing full well that his painfully strong grip encouraged him to work faster.

The waitress, wanting to be relieved of the most awkward situation she'd encountered in her working career, wasted no time in bringing the bill. Arthur was too engrossed in coaxing an orgasm from Eames to hear her approaching the table, and as she set the slip down and moved in to clear the plates, her foot hit his knee.

"Mmph!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling his mouth off of Eames' cock with an audible pop and smacking his head on the underside of the table. "Ow! Shit!"

Eames froze, a nervous smile plastered to his face. He looked at the waitress, whose expression had morphed from mild discomfort to pure disgust.

"Oh my god." She dropped the plates onto the table and backed away. The scene had attracted the attention of every diner in the room, and Eames cursed his cock for remaining rock hard as he stuffed it back into his pants. He was acutely aware of the deep blush that was creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks as he retrieved his billfold and dropped a fifty dollar bill onto the table. He would've left more to compensate for the waitress' embarrassment, but she had gotten on his nerves.

"Come on, Arthur," Eames said, standing up and straightening his clothes before striding towards the door. Arthur poked his head out from under the tablecloth. In his tipsy, lustful state he'd quite forgotten that there were other people in the room, and now they were all staring at him reproachfully. He gave them his most charming grin before crawling out and stumbling after Eames.

Eames was already waiting in the Nissan with the passenger door open when Arthur stepped outside. _He's going to fuck me,_ Arthur thought giddily. He practically skipped to the car, the charming smile still stuck to his face. After settling himself in, he reached for his seatbelt but was stopped by Eames' hand on his arm.

"You won't be needing that," Eames said. Arthur couldn't read the tone of his voice, but knew exactly what it meant when he turned to face him - Eames had his cock out, his other hand moving over it languorously. Ignoring the fact that they were parked right outside the building that they had just been busted in, Arthur twisted around in his seat and positioned himself over Eames' lap, his mouth hovering over the glistening head of his erection. He looked directly into his lust-darkened eyes as he wrapped his lips around the head, tongue lapping up precum. Eames sighed deeply and relaxed into the seat, his right hand finding its way to the bulge in Arthur's crotch and squeezing. Arthur made a delicious little noise, thrusting against Eames' hand as he took in a few more inches of cock.

The two quickened their pace as the minutes passed, Eames controlling Arthur's movements with one hand and teasing him mercilessly with the other. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer; he had been on the brink of orgasm before and as incredible as Arthur's mouth felt on his cock, he was literally aching for release.

"Arthur…" Eames began, not getting any further before his entire cock was engulfed in the liquid heat of the other man's mouth. He could actually feel a wave of ecstasy swelling and crashing down his spine and being drawn out of his body; he was coming in violent jerks and Arthur was taking every bit of it down his throat. Several blinding seconds passed until Eames bucked himself dry, his vision slowly returning to normal as he sank into the seat. Arthur let the now-spent cock slip from his mouth as he locked eyes with Eames, cum and saliva glinting off his chin in the car's dark interior.

"C'mere," he slurred, crashing his mouth against Eames' and forcing his whitened tongue past lips and teeth. Eames' breath hitched when the taste of his own cock - his own cum - hit his taste buds. It wasn't unpleasant. Actually, it was pretty fucking hot – especially when Arthur was sucking on his tongue the same way he'd been sucking on his cock. He felt disappointed when Arthur pulled back, tearing off his suit jacket and unbuckling his belt, but he also came back to Earth.

"Hold your horses, darling, our work here is done." Eames turned the key in the ignition and the Nissan roared to life. Arthur looked as if he was going to cry. "Sit down and buckle up."

As the car sped along the blackened streets, Arthur stopped sulking long enough to speak. "Where are we going now?"

"Oh, the night is still young, Arthur, and besides – you haven't had your turn yet."

The sullen expression vanished from Arthur's face and a devilish smile took its place. Eames shifted into fifth gear and turned onto the highway, heading towards the city.

~tbc


	2. Recline

Sounds:

Slum Village – Forth & Back

Spectac & Amiri ft. Phonte – Reasons

Shaunta – California

D'Angelo – Left & Right

Kev Brown – Always (9th Wonder Remix)

"Where are we going to get kicked out of now?"

Arthur was still giddy from the wine and the thrill of getting busted in a busy restaurant. He could scarcely believe his excitement over the evening's events and where they were leading – he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way about anything.

"You'll see," Eames said. He glanced over at his date, who still looked remarkably dashing despite his rumpled clothes. He quelled the urge to reach over and palm what was surely a still-hard cock; the last thing he needed was to run a rented luxury car into a telephone pole.

"I guess you really are an International Man of Mystery," Arthur quipped. Eames acknowledged the reference to his lame impression by rolling his eyes, which only spurred Arthur on. "You don't have the repulsive chest hair, but your teeth are the same."

The car screeched to a halt and Arthur nearly collided with the dashboard. He stared at Eames, wide-eyed, and his heart leapt into his throat when he realized he'd gone a bit too far. The other man looked positively livid.

"You lairy little fucker! You've got some fucking stones, making fun of my teeth."

Arthur felt something that closely resembled fear. He tried backpedaling out of the mess he'd gotten himself into. "Come on, Eames, I didn't _mean_-"

"Bollocks. Do I look like a cunt to you?"

Eames' speech became distinctly British when he was angry; Arthur loved it but knew that it wasn't headed in a positive direction. He was used to trading snide remarks with his co-worker – it had been the foundation of their working relationship for years – but such personal jabs had never been flung about. He opened his mouth and quickly shut it again, certain that whatever came out would soothe like butter on a burn.

Eames continued grousing. "Of all people! I pick you up, take you out, and this is how you fucking thank me."

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered, waiting for Eames to tell him to get out of the car and start walking. As he stared down at his hands, trembling ever-so-slightly in his lap, he could feel tears welling in his eyes. _Stupid goddamn wine,_ he thought. _I'm never drinking it again._

A long minute passed before Eames let out a sigh. "I am too." The anger had left his voice and he simply sounded tired now. He looked over at Arthur, who was still studying his hands, and he realized that he'd actually made the Point Man remorseful. "Arthur, look at me."

Arthur did, but only out of the corner of his eye. Eames reached out and his date flinched as if expecting to be struck, and then relaxed a bit when Eames simply grabbed hold of his chin and turned it towards him. Eames was smiling mischievously, his crooked teeth glinting in the dim light of the vehicle.

"I'm sorry for teasing you," Eames said, not sounding sorry at all. A confused look crossed Arthur's face before he slapped Eames' hand away.

"Teasing me? You mean that was another one of your so-called 'jokes'?"

Eames was trying his best not to burst out laughing. "Arthur, you are as gullible as a con man in love." He was quite aware of how true the statement actually was, and this was reinforced by the deep blush it incited. "Do you really think, after years of trading insults, that I'd get upset over a remark about my teeth? If it bothered me that much, I'd have had them straightened ages ago."

Arthur felt remarkably stupid, having fallen for another one of Eames' traps. He was annoyed with himself for being too inebriated to realize what he'd walked straight into, and for a brief moment he felt annoyed with his date as well. The latter feeling, however, was fleeting at best.

"Well, you've succeeded in making a fool out of me twice in one evening. Must be a record."

"Hardly," Eames said. "Don't you remember that job in Manila, where-"

"Yes, and I don't need my memory refreshed."

Eames just shrugged and shifted the car back onto the road. "You're adorable when you're huffy, darling. All that sulk and brood is a massive turn-on."

"Not funny," Arthur grumbled, though he secretly enjoyed hearing this.

"It wasn't meant to be."

The faint tingling of arousal coursed through Arthur, sparking his curiosity over why Eames would find sullenness arousing. Before he could ask, his question was answered.

"It's like you're challenging me - I just want to fuck the grouchiness out of you sometimes."

Eames' words worked like a charm on Arthur's cock, which began straining against its confines within seconds. Arthur had never felt so ambiguously towards a person – he swung between despising Eames one minute and adoring him the next. He was shocked by his emotions, which he'd never normally express, much less allow to get out of hand, around anyone else. Eames was destroying his self-control.

"You're welcome to try," Arthur blurted. He had the urge to apply the emergency brake, bringing the car to a stop in the middle of the highway, before tearing off his clothes and draping himself over the engine bonnet for ravishing.

Eames glanced at his watch. "As tempting as that sounds, it would make us terribly late for the nine o'clock show. I've already got the tickets purchased and I'd rather not let them go to waste."

"What show? Where?"

Eames looked over at Arthur with that dreadful twinkle in his eye. "You'll see."

Approximately five minutes later, Arthur saw that Eames had parked outside the Encore Theatre. It was a shabby-looking establishment, probably the oldest in the city, and had a reputation for showing eccentric films at unorthodox hours. Arthur had never set foot in the place. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time he'd set foot in _any _movie theatre – or the last time he'd watched a movie that wasn't pornographic.

"I figured this would be a nice departure from your humdrum routine," Eames said. Arthur couldn't argue this point. He craned his neck to read the marquee on the front of the building but was unsuccessful. Stepping out of the car, it became easier to see: _Waking Life_.

"You've got to be kidding me," Arthur said. "I've seen this one a million times."

"I doubt that," Eames responded. He held the door for Arthur and very obviously checked out his ass on the way in. He presented his tickets to the bored-looking attendant slumped inside an old-fashioned wicket. "Do you want anything from concessions?"

Arthur scanned the dimly lit lobby, disappointed by its worn-out appearance, before spying a large candy display against the far wall. His sweet tooth shifted into overdrive when he saw the bags of Jolly Ranchers. "I can't resist," he said, shyness creeping into his voice. Eames found this to be remarkably cute. He paid for the candy and led his date into the single auditorium, which was completely empty – much to his delight.

After settling into the centre of the back row, Eames snatched a handful of Jolly Ranchers and began eating them loudly, the crunch echoing throughout the room. Arthur rolled his eyes as he neatly unwrapped a grape candy and sucked it quietly. "It's like junior high all over again."

"Spoilsport."

Arthur glanced about anxiously, wondering if and when other moviegoers would arrive. He didn't want to be surrounded like they'd been in the restaurant. The previews started and Eames put his feet up on the seat in front of him, intermittently flicking wrappers at Arthur's head. A half-dozen ads dragged by with no signs of other people, save for a lanky usher who merely poked his head around the corner before retreating back into the lobby. The opening scene filled the screen and Eames chuckled.

"Speaking of junior high – I bet you played Fortune Teller all the time."

"Not half as much as you played with yourself," Arthur retorted, the lingering effects of the wine dulling his wits.

Eames gave him a piteous look. "You're losing your touch, Arthur."

_Why does he always get the best of me?_ Arthur thought, turning his attention back to the screen. They watched in silence for a long period of time; it was hard not to get wrapped up in the mesmerizing visuals of the film. Arthur nearly jumped out of his seat when Eames' hand made its way into his lap, knocking the candies to the floor and coaxing forth the hardness it sought. His pulse geared down when he realized that they were still alone, and he unbuckled his belt to allow easier access. Every hair on his body straightened along with his cock when skin met skin; the familiar thrill of fucking around in public swept over him. The coolness of the theatre's air smarted against his now-exposed crotch, but this was quickly forgotten about once Eames had his hand wrapped around the shaft.

"Faster."

"I can't," Eames grunted. "The armrest's in the way and it doesn't move."

"Should've picked a newer theatre," Arthur said, shoving his pants down further. Eames was on his knees in seconds.

"We'd never get away with _this-_" Eames said, dragging his tongue along the underside of Arthur's cock, "in a newer theatre; they're always packed."

"True," Arthur sighed. He slouched into the unyielding seat, spreading his legs wider and allowing Eames close enough to swallow him whole. Arthur's hips jerked forward as the head of his cock touched the back of his date's throat, resulting in a stifled gag from Eames and a not-so-stifled giggle from Arthur. "Jeez, Eames, even _I_ didn't gag when you did that to me – and that was my first time."

"Liar," Eames muttered, the word obscured by cock.

Arthur chuckled again and traced the edges of the other man's ears with both hands before letting his head rest against the back of his seat. He wasn't entirely surprised by Eames' ability to pleasure him – after all, those lips had to be good for something other than making witty repartee. His breath hitched sharply when he felt the warm pressure of a hand on his balls, kneading and fondling until his entire body went rigid with bliss.

Through half-closed eyes, Arthur watched the kaleidoscope of color and movement playing a hundred feet away. It gave the evening a surreal tincture; for a brief moment, he considered pinching himself just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Eames was still bobbing away minutes later when Arthur heard a door open.

"Someone's coming!" He hissed, and Eames froze, eyes wide, knowing that there was no way he'd be able to get back into his seat without arousing suspicion. Instead, the Brit released Arthur's cock and dropped to the floor, pretending to be searching for something. Arthur stuffed himself back into his pants and folded his hands on his lap as if nothing had happened, praying that nobody ventured close enough to see that his pants were four inches lower than they should be.

Just then, the lanky usher appeared at the foot of the aisle and inclined his head when he saw that half of the audience was missing. He started up the stairs – _shitshitshitshitshit_, Arthur thought – but Eames chose that exact moment to pop up from his hiding place and announce, "Here it is!" He looked in the usher's direction. "Lost a contact." The kid paused, not quite sure whether to believe him, but eventually shrugged and disappeared again. Both Arthur and Eames let out a relieved sigh.

"That was a close one."

"Indeed it was," Eames said, pulling Arthur's semi-hard cock out of his pants. "Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming."

Arthur was fully erect within seconds of Eames putting his mouth on him. He returned to a hazy state of bliss, colors oozing across the screen as pressure built up in the base of his spine. Eames nipped down his shaft, each bite making Arthur's knees twitch involuntarily. "I fucking love that mouth of yours," Arthur muttered, running a hand through the other man's hair.

"Mmhm."

"Even those…those awful teeth."

Eames gave Arthur's balls a none-too-gentle nip in response, and then soothed the spot with his tongue. He drew back, hand replacing his mouth as he looked directly into the other man's eyes. "I'd like to fuck you here."

Arthur looked at him incredulously, torn between prudent denial and haphazard submission. "Well…"

"It'd be a perfect spot for our first time – very memorable, don't you think?"

"Yes, but-"

"I won't take 'no' for an answer, darling." Eames produced a miniature bottle of lube from his jacket pocket and Arthur noticed that he'd already freed his cock. He could feel himself turning red and was glad the theatre was too dark for this to be discernible. He wanted very badly to feel Eames inside of him, but he wasn't sure that his body would cooperate when he was so anxious. As had been the pattern since the beginning of the evening, the wine took control and made a decision.

"Let's do it."

Eames' smile was bright enough to be seen a mile away. He picked himself up off the floor and settled back into his seat, pushing his pants down far enough to avoid ruining them with the lube he was drizzling over his cock. "You'll be in control this way," he said. Arthur liked the sounds of this. He nearly tore off his suit jacket before easing over onto Eames' lap, and a chill ran up his spine when his bare ass made contact with the slickness of the Brit's cock. The thrill of being naughty in public, of losing control, was turning out to be one of the most arousing feelings he'd ever had.

"Easy, love, we don't need you getting hurt."

A strange mixture of cold and warm slid along the crack of Arthur's ass; it took him a moment to realize it was Eames' fingers, coated with lube. His body tensed as one finger found its way inside, his arms beginning to shake from gripping the armrests so tightly. It took a few minutes before the foreignness of the sensation ebbed away and was replaced by pleasure. He felt himself being stretched further, another finger delving into him in search of a sweet spot.

"Ohmygod," Arthur hissed, allowing himself to sink down onto Eames' hand. His cock throbbed, its tip pearlescent in the bluish light from the screen, and he wished he could wrap a hand around it. Eames' free hand was running over his hip, fingertips brushing at dark hair but sliding away just before making contact with the shaft. Arthur was aching with desperation. "You fucking cock tease!"

Eames let out a snort of laughter and guided Arthur further down, impaling him upon his fingers and scissoring them until he struck the little nodule he'd been searching for. Arthur's body shuddered and clenched with each successful hit, his moans getting louder as Eames' movements became rougher. Eames clapped his hand over Arthur's mouth, forcing his head back until his ear was within whispering range.

"You don't want to get us caught, do you?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Not another sound."

Eames withdrew his fingers from Arthur's body, but the shock of their sudden absence was short-lived; within seconds they'd been replaced by the slick pressure of cock. Eames eased himself into Arthur, who had gone stiff with discomfort, and sucked a trail from ear to jaw in an effort to relax him. It took a painfully long time before Arthur was able to inch down to the base of Eames' cock, but it was worth every second once they ventured into movement. Bracing himself against the armrests despite the burn in his muscles, Arthur tentatively began arching his hips to generate more of the delicious friction he'd felt moments ago.

"Christ, Arthur!" Eames said, pleasantly surprised by the searing tightness enveloping his cock. In an effort to keep himself from squealing in ecstasy, Arthur bit down on Eames' hand and was rewarded with a thrust he could feel in his chest. He was only dimly aware of the goings-on in the movie, having let his head tilt back and his eyes roll skyward. Eames' panting, combined with the wet slapping of skin against skin, had obliterated the dialogue.

Arthur eventually gathered the wherewithal to relocate one hand to his leaking cock, which had felt as though it might erupt at the slightest touch. He was relieved when it didn't – what a mess that would make! – but knew that he wouldn't be able to last much longer. Eames was using one hand to hold Arthur steady as he pounded into him as best he could, given the confines of theatre seating, the other hand still muffling the sounds he couldn't stop producing.

Arthur wrenched himself free of Eames' hand to change the angle of penetration. As he leaned forward, hands now on the other man's knees, the thrusts became more forceful and the blur of colors on the screen doubled before him. A high-pitched giggle distracted him and for a moment he thought it was Eames – but the sound was distant, echoing. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur spied movement near the wall. He forced his eyes to focus and realized they'd attracted an audience once again, only much smaller and comprised of high school students.

"Shit!"

Eames froze mid-thrust. "What? What's wrong?"

"Looks like we've become the feature presentation," Arthur remarked, caught between mortification and amusement.

"Again?" Eames sounded inconvenienced. He struggled to sit up with Arthur's weight on his groin, leaning around him to snap at the kids. "Sod off, you fucking chavs! Give us a minute to pull our pants up." The group erupted into giggles once again, most of them retreating to the lobby but one or two lingering behind, eager for more scandal. Arthur reluctantly stood up, missing Eames' cock the second it left his ass, and buttoned his pants as if it were commonplace to be caught having sex in a theatre. Eames did the same and made a beeline for the emergency exit.

"Eames, you can't-" Arthur started, but was cut off by the shriek of the door's alarm. He picked up his jacket and hurried toward the door without a backward glance at the kids whose innocence had undoubtedly been spoiled.

The alleyway they stepped into was lit by the single flood lamp above the exit; besides being littered with popcorn, it was the same as any other. Arthur thought of all the stories he'd heard about people getting attacked and raped in dark alleys, surprised by the sudden appeal of getting fucked in such a place. He grabbed Eames' arm. "Wait. Let's finish it here."

Eames' voice was tinged with disgust. "Absolutely not. I can't believe that you, of all people, would suggest fucking in a filthy alley."

"Please?" Arthur lowered his pants and turned around, wagging his bare ass at Eames.

"Well…" Eames faltered. His cock throbbed with renewed lust for the beautiful offering before him, but in a rare instance of sensibility, his brain won out. "No. I've got a better idea." He turned on his heel and strode toward the front of the theatre, Arthur struggling to keep up while pulling his pants on properly. Eames let Arthur into the car first, unable to resist running his eyes over him for the umpteenth time.

"So now what?"

"I know a place where we'll have a bit more privacy."

The place in question turned out to be the local park, which ran along one side of a small lake and possessed very little lighting. Eames steered the car away from the parking lot and onto a patch of grass next to a picnic table. Arthur opened his mouth to protest.

"Don't," Eames said. He got out of the car and Arthur followed suit. The air was perfectly still in the park, a few stars standing out against the darkening sky. Arthur gazed up at them, now pleased with the choice of location.

"I forgot all about this place," he said. "It's beautiful."

"I thought it was appropriate," Eames responded, settling down on the picnic table. "Now come here."

Arthur obeyed, heart fluttering with anticipation. Eames pulled him close, sliding his jacket off as their mouths connected and tongues entwined. His hands traveled over Arthur's torso and down to his ass, gripping it firmly, swallowing the sounds that the other man kept producing. Arthur had Eames' face in his hands, thumbs grazing over stubble in an oddly desperate manner. Eames released one ass cheek to relocate one of Arthur's hands to his crotch and was incensed by the firm squeeze that followed.

"Pants off," he ordered, biting his lip as he watched Arthur undress. He felt his pupils dilating as he took in his date's smooth white skin, the wonderful little trail of dark hair below his navel, and the glistening tip of his impressive erection. "Against the hood. Spread 'em." Arthur positioned himself accordingly, never taking his eyes off Eames. He was panting already, chest heaving and lips parted expectantly. Eames undid his own pants and stood behind Arthur, pressing his cock into the cleft of his ass and running his hands over his back and sides.

"Don't tease me anymore," Arthur begged, dropping down to his elbows and concaving his spine. "Just fuck me."

_How could I say no to that?_ Eames thought, retrieving the lube. He slicked it over his cock first and then ran a finger down the crack of Arthur's ass, watching him squirm with delight. This time his cock went in much more smoothly; in no time Eames was able to pound into Arthur the way he'd been wanting to for years.

With the risk of being caught at an all-time low, Arthur was free to make as much noise as he wanted – and he took advantage of it. Nearly every move Eames made resulted in a moan or grunt or unintelligible string of words, and the sounds he made whenever Eames nailed his prostate were especially loud.

"Christ!" He yelped, stars entering his vision. Eames released his grip on his hips and leaned forward, bracing himself against the engine bonnet as he penetrated Arthur at a new angle. A single drop of sweat ran down his nose and landed on the back of the other man's neck, which made his neglected cock harder. He snaked a hand down to his crotch, fist flying over his cock as he pushed his ass back into Eames' body.

"Slow down," Eames panted into Arthur's ear. "I want… I want to see you cum."

Arthur grunted and slowed his movements, screwing his eyes shut against the agony of withholding orgasm. The pressure that had been building up in the base of his spine all evening was nearly unbearable. Sensing this, Eames pulled out of Arthur and gave him a slap on the hip. "Turn over." Arthur did, glad to take the pressure off his elbows and knees. Eames was back inside him within seconds, this time taking control of his cock with an adeptness that took Arthur's breath away.

"Where do you want it?"

Lust had sent Arthur into a stupor and he had no clue what Eames was talking about. "Want what?"

"Cum, Arthur. Jesus, that wine did a number on you."

Arthur's face twitched as Eames speared his prostate with remarkable accuracy. "Surprise me." With that, Eames increased the depth of his thrusts and the speed of his hand. Arthur winced against the exquisite blend of pleasure and pain, and with that he felt himself tipping over the edge. The surge of orgasm ripped through him and he let out a long, ecstatic wail as jets of cum landed on the front of his shirt.

The involuntary clenching of Arthur's body around his cock, combined with seeing him completely losing control of himself, was enough to bring about the same feeling in Eames. He snapped his hips forward one last time, barely hearing the smack of skin on skin over the veritable scream that tore from his throat. He pulled his cock out just in time to blow his load all over Arthur's crotch, and then promptly collapsed on top of him.

Arthur was still trapped in a sex-induced haze minutes later, his breaths having slowed to normal. The smell of sex and damp grass was overwhelming but pleasant, as was the warmth of Eames' weight on top of him. He could fall asleep like this if the hood of the car wasn't so unyielding. As his eyelids began to droop, Arthur couldn't help but smile at the still-warm memory of the night's events.

Arthur woke up with a jolt. He tried to sit up but couldn't, and this sent him into a small panic.

"Arthur!"

Eames' voice calmed him enough for his cognizance to return, and he quickly saw that he was being restrained by a seatbelt. How had he ended up in the car again? _Obviously Eames put me back,_ he thought, mentally chastising himself for the temporary lapse of intelligence.

"You've been asleep for the past half hour," Eames said. Arthur noticed the car was parked outside his apartment complex. His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach with the realization that the date was now over and it was time for them to go their separate ways. He decided to try stalling.

"So now what?"

Eames gave him a strange look. "I give you a perfunctory goodnight kiss and go on my merry way."

"You could come in," Arthur said shyly, staring at his feet.

"I could," Eames said. He'd already made up his mind but enjoyed making Arthur beg. "Then again, I'd have the comfort of my own bed if I went home, and there would be no Coyote Ugly or Walk of Shame in the morning."

Arthur looked quite offended. "Quit dicking around. Are you coming up or not?"

"Now _that_ was a loaded sentence, darling, but I'll be a gentleman and refrain from taking advantage of it."

"I'll make you waffles in the morning."

Eames' eyebrows rose with the promise of food. "With bacon."

"And green eggs and ham." Arthur's expression turned frisky. "I'll even serve them to you in bed, with nothing on but a smile."

"Consider my arm twisted."


End file.
